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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24451141">My Hollywood</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenchains/pseuds/goldenchains'>goldenchains</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Arctic Monkeys, Last Shadow Puppets</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alex beats Writer's Block with his notebook, Alex loves baths, Domestic Fluff, Hollywood, M/M, Miles dries it for him after, Self-Acceptance, Short &amp; Sweet, They're proper vibes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:35:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>660</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24451141</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenchains/pseuds/goldenchains</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Miles is Hollywood's biggest fan.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Miles Kane/Alex Turner</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>My Hollywood</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Enjoy what I've managed to get out in the midst of writer's block! X</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>MY HOLLYWOOD</p>
<p>Alex was never particularly fond of his body, only finding interest in it when Miles couldn’t help himself but kiss the soul out of it. Even with thinning it out through the millions of cigarettes that have fogged his memory, taking up boxing after Matt’s endless nagging, abandoning it completely after seeing the way he stupidly smiled with his gloves; and accepting his reality.</p>
<p>He was taken, occupied, and familiar. Because there’s nothing more that Alex loves than feeling the hands of his lover, a man (the opposite of himself, a fool) holds him beneath the duvets at night. It wasn’t because of the way their fingers hooked when they were alone, followed by his ankles around his man’s hips. Even on the eternal summer days, sweated and burnt-out, Miles was the first thing on his mind, on his lips.</p>
<p>Miles <em>is </em>his man.</p>
<p>He had to call his mum and learn the how-to of domesticity, from her experience. Always, his parents were full of love that splattered the walls and disgusted him. He almost dared to vow never to love such a love as theirs. But now, the love he had with Miles had painted their walls beautifully.</p>
<p>Alex knew the way Miles liked his coffee on the good days, and the bad ones. The simple recipe was framed in his mind, flashing with bright lights.</p>
<p>On the bad ones, gloomed and filled with little talk and smiles, there was no coffee, but tea and a back rub. On the good ones, there was coffee with two sugars and more milk, and the one cigarette of the morning, shared between them both.</p>
<p>And Miles could never keep his hands off of Alex, it’s his way of loving.</p>
<p>The only time he didn’t mind the way his body looked was in the bathtub. He almost loved the simplicity of the thought. There, he wasn't Alex Turner. He was Al, babe, with a beating heart and a living mind. His stomach folded over itself in small rolls that could hide the purest of secrets in his mind, stopping where the water kissed his skin, his ankles pressed against the porcelain a bit too hard they turn red, and his sogginess.</p>
<p>He started by sitting in the bathtub with headphones on, and his legs spread open, toes just above the water, and orange-scented suds sat on his skin with determination to show him the truth. Alex would never bother lighting candles and turning down the lights. It made him raw to emotion.</p>
<p>The sensation: <em>existing</em>, gave him too many thoughts for him to remember. One he could never forget was Miles, sitting in the other room, <em>their</em> bedroom-- with his knee propped up and glasses sitting crooked on his nose.</p>
<p>The following time, he brought in his notebook, which he dropped too many times to share without embarrassing himself. The bathtub almost became his saviour, and every time he wrote another handful of acrobatic lyricism he shamed the devil’s madness, cursing writer’s block personally.</p>
<p>Eventually, he let Miles in. It was much like when Miles first came into his life. They were no longer their own selves. They were each others’, and one. He figured it was cliché, even to think, but it was part of love.</p>
<p>He would sit on the counter, knocking over the metallic eyeshadow and jewellery Alex left from yesteryear’s night out. They collaborated, Alex soggy, Miles high and dry.</p>
<p>Miles started calling him <em>hollywood</em>, pulling out the hairdryer from the back of the cupboard, and spend the next thirty minutes after Alex’s seemingly never-ending baths to dry each page, filled with the undiscovered wonders of the world, formulas, and questions that no one knew the answers to.</p>
<p>But he would be the one to discover such things, that Alex never wanted the light of day to see. Even if they were a few minutes drive away from the lights and action, Alex is Miles’s star.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading! I hope to update Do You Remember Me? sometime soon, I've had the second chapter draft for a few months and I'm picky. </p>
<p>Comments and kudos are appreciated! X</p></blockquote></div></div>
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